Twist
by Mystic Deadman
Summary: A snapshot of a one-on-one training session. And a (good-natured) goon being a goon.


**why do i keep pumping out oneshots when i need to work on my bigger stories please help me i have too many idea**

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Deep breath.

Hands at the ready.

One foot in front of the other.

Nothing else around us. Just me and my opponent.

The way he's holding up his fists. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He's probably just mimicking things he's seen on TV or in movies. He's not really ready to throw a punch or anything.

The second the young man lunged at her, she moved.

He'd made the mistake of throwing the punch from above, almost as if he were swinging his fist down on her instead of directly at her; his motion was like bringing a hammer down on her, and that was all she needed.

She reached out with one arm, pushing his punching arm to one side while stepping to the side in a dodge. She wrapped her other arm under his, allowed him to take one more step, and twisted his arm back. The end result was him flipping tail over teakettle and landing heavily on his back.

She looked down at her attacker. He lay there on the ground, not saying a word. His eyes were wide open in shock. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was a well-designed CPR dummy.

As it was, though, she could probably just leave off the CPR part.

A moment of silence passed. Neither person so much as blinked, letting the air around them grow thick with awkwardness.

Then, the groan. It was so soft and high pitched that it was almost impossible to believe that he could ever utter it. It was almost like she'd landed a shot on a significant part of his body.

Maybe that's what she should teach him to protect next.

It was probably the single most pathetic thing she'd ever seen from him in all her life. Granted, she really didn't have much of a sampling pool of moments with him, but none of the time they'd spent together made it seem like he could be as pathetic as he currently was.

She let out a deep sigh.

"I don't understand you, Ren," she said, his pained groan continuing on, "how is it that you're so athletic and capable in the Metaverse, but the second we're back in the real world it's as if you've never so much as jumped over a rock in your life."

Ren ended the groan, smiling slightly. He was lucky she'd convinced him to take his glasses off before practice. She wasn't sure what would've been more embarrassing: him falling on them and breaking them, or taking a fall the way he just did and the glasses falling off balance and tilting over his face.

"Cognition. If I think I can do it, I can. I just can't out here."

"Well," Makoto sighed again, "I suppose that _is_ why we're here. Although, I would appreciate it if you would take this seriously. As much as this is about me getting in some practice, it's also about you learning how to defend yourself if you don't have your weapons on you."

Ren sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"And when am I not going to have my weapons on me?"

Makoto put her hands on her hips, scowling at the back of his head as he got to his feet.

"Well, any time we're in the real world, for one. Or did you forget that our weapons are only toys out here and trying to rely on them when you're in danger will only get you hurt."

Ren sighed, rubbing at the small of his back.

"Yeah, okay, that makes sense, I guess."

"Good. Now can we get back to it?"

Ren raised his hands again, curling them into fists. As Makoto readied herself, Ren smirking that damn insufferable smirk that he always seemed to have whenever he thought he had the upper hand.

That same damn smirk she, in the back of her mind acknowledged but would never say out loud especially not to his face _don'tevenaskit'snotgoing__t__ohappen_, found cute.

"Sure. We still need to go out for that coffee we agreed to after this."

For some reason, she couldn't decide whether to drag their practice on, or get it over with as soon as possible.

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**For the record, best girl in P5 is a tie between Makoto and Kawakami. Fight me if you're wrong about it. :3**

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